Misfits
by XLilaX
Summary: Huey's always been the odd one out. Perhaps, nobody wants to hang out with a domestic terrorist? Either way, this all changes when the Freemans get new neighbors: Tom, his wife: Mariah, and their shy, biracial daughter Jazmine. Huey looks foward to not being the only black kid in school, anymore-that is, until his classmates dub the new girl: "The Hooker's Daughter".
1. Author's Note

I DO NOT OWN THE COVER PHOTO!

Hey, all!

It's so awesome to finally get to post another story for you guys again :)

The cover for this story is on the Wattpad version, but I'll try to upload it here tomorrow. My Wattpad account is XLilaX :) I'm more active on there.

Also, sorry about the bad summary. You know how Fanfic's word counts are :( Here's the Wattpad summary (wayyy better):

 **"Huey's always been the odd one out. You could say it's because of his being one of the only kids of color at school, his permanent scowl, his monotone voice, or overall lack of enthusiasm. The truth is: a lot of kids just don't want to hang out with a thirteen year old domestic terrorist.**

 **While this may be true, things start to change as soon as the Freemans get new neighbors: the Dubois'.**

 **At first glance, they appear to be your average Woodcrest family: a husband (Tom), his wife (Mariah) and their incredibly timid, biracial daughter: Jazmine.**

 **Upon their new neighbors' arrival, Huey looks forward to not being the only black kid in his grade, anymore-that is, until the new girl is immediately dubbed, "The Hooker's Daughter", by his classmates at Wuncler Middle School."**

 **Updates will be on: Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.**

First off, I promise this story will be wayyyy better than _Home, Sweet Home_ because I have everything more planned out this time, and I have more free time to write chapters and update!

But I also have bad news: this story won't be that long :( I'm planning it for it to only be novella (maybe around 10-12 chapters, idk). This is also a good thing because its storyline won't feel dragged out this way; the plot doesn't call for that much detail, especially since I'm writing this as more of a comedy than anything (I just wanna make ya laugh lol). Then, I can write more stories after this, too!

Now, onto what I think is the most important thing I'll be mentioning in this prelude: Jazmine's mom won't be Sarah. Yeah, you already saw this in the summary and are probably questioning this, so let me tell ya that this is the core of this story's plot. I think you'll definitely like Sarah's replacement, Mariah Dubois, though! X)

Also, everyone will be three years older, so Huey and Jazmine will be 13, and Riley and Cindy will be 11.

That's all, for now! Please, enjoy _Misfits_ and leave a vote and comment, then share it with your buds, if you like it!

Love you guys!


	2. Prologue: Granddad's Desperate Night

His wine-colored eyes remain trained on the vile as he pours its gooey lime green liquid into the beaker sitting on the workspace before him. As soon as the vile is empty, the garage door (connected to the rest of the house) swings open. He loses his focus and barely keeps his grip on the glass vile in his right hand.

"Boy!" Granddad's crabby yelling fills the room.

He marches over to his grandson and snatches the beaker from his desk.

"What I tell you 'bout makin' these damn bombs?!" he scolds the preteen boy. Huey rolls his his dark eyes and groans. He quickly swipes the beaker away from his grandfather.  
"Granddad, I told you: it's not a bomb," he corrects the old man, his tone bogged down by irritation. "I'm working on the cure for Sickle Cell Anemia" —his expression relaxes as he reflects on his work— "and I think I'm finally making progress."  
"Well, tell that to the FBI," Granddad nags. "I don't want no more of them damn agents showin' up at my door, again!"

Huey sighs and tries to change the subject,

"Grandda- _ah-"_ Before the boy can start, his voice cracks, interrupting the sentence.

He'd been noticing his voice cracking and changing pitch for a couple months. It became problematic whenever he would raise his hand to make a snarky objection to his history teacher's false statements about black history in class. Instead of having a tone of voice that demands respect, his pitchy words would, now, only earn giggles and whispers amongst his classmates.

Puberty's a bitch.

Huey gulps and tries to fight off an oncoming blush.

"Don't you have some catfish Tinder date to get ready for this evening?" he inquires.

Robert's eyes light up, and his mouth forms an 'O' after his smartass grandson's question catches him off-guard. He quickly recollects himself and clears his throat in an attempt to play off his shock to the question. He scratches his balding head, his eyes dancing around with nervousness.

"Uh-yeah!" Granddad blurts out. "Of course, I do! As a matter of fact, I should go get ready, right now!"

He turns back around to leave the garage, announcing as he briskly approaches the door:

"And she ain't no catfish, either!"

He closes the door behind himself and his expression of forced confidence immediately fades into one of hopelessness. His eyes graze the floor as he trudges up the staircase to the second floor and into his room, where he slumps down into his bed and turns onto his side, releasing a melancholy whimper.

 _I haven't been able to get a date in weeks..._ he reminds himself. He flops onto his back and watches the wings of the ceiling fan slowly turning above him. _What's wrong with me? I feel like such a loser..._

He sits up and goes to the bathroom to take a look at himself in the mirror. He cups his chin in his hand, scanning the wrinkles lining his aged face.

 _Am I just getting to old?_ he wonders, horrified by the thought.

Huey's questions replays in his mind:

 _"Don't you have some catfish Tinder date to get ready for this evening?"_

The word 'Tinder' then takes up his focus, and an idea pops into his mind.

 _Maybe I should try real-life dating, like back in the good old days?_ he theorizes.

For some reason, this idea strikes him with a sudden blow of anxiety—he'd gotten so used to meeting women online and being shot down by them for the past couple of weeks that the thought of trying to shoot his shot in real life, now, feels intimidating.

 _No, no, no, I can't!_ he tells himself. _I need something easier, something that'll guarantee I can get a date..._

He sinks back into his thoughts and begins to pace back and forth through the bathroom, until he comes up with something. His gut sinks at his next idea, though.

 _Maybe I'll have to look for one of them hookers?_

...

Robert slips on his trench coat and adjusts his flat cap on his way to the front door.

The boys are on the couch watching TV as he passes through the living room.

"Y'all be good for Uncle Ruckus!" Granddad refers the chubby old man, who's rummaging around in their refrigerator.

"These little nigglets won't get the best of me this time!" Ruckus hollers from the kitchen.

"Good luck on your date, Granddad," Huey says.  
"You betta get that ho a kid's meal with a small Sprite from McDonald's, then drop her back off at her crib!" Riley comments, opposed to Granddad's fancy treatment of the ladies.  
"That's not how you treat a woman, Riley," Huey objects while rolling his eyes at his brother.  
"Ay, you being generous if you get a ho a Sprite from McDonald's 'cause they Sprite always hit different," Riley argues. He closes his eyes and licks his grinning lips with a nostalgic moan, reminiscing about his past orders of McDonald's Sprite.

Ruckus joins the discussion and sits himself down in Granddad's recliner next to the couch with a bag of buttered popcorn.

"And y'all negroes wonder why diseases like diabetes and high cholesterol run rampant through yo' community." He shakes his head with disapproval. "Every time I see a McDonald's commercial on the television, I only see y'all black folk on there.

"It's a good thang the good ol' white man has built magnificent restaurant food chains and grocery stores, like _Whole Foods_ and _Fresh Market_ that only sell organic foods, so they can keep they communities healthy and vibrant," he concludes.  
"Have you ever purchased any organic foods from _Whole Foods_ or _Fresh Market,_ Ruckus?" Huey asks, raising a cocky eyebrow.

Ruckus sports a goofy, dumbfounded grin and shrugs.

"Well-uh-I would, but I just can't afford their deliciously fresh and natural foods on my salary," he explains.

Granddad stops next to Huey and leans down to tell him:

"Remember what I told you: no making bombs, tonight, so stay out my garage, keep the blinds closed, and don't answer the door if another agent comes."

With that, Granddad exits through the front door, closing and locking it behind him. There's no need for him to be wearing gloves, since his hands are quite warm and sweaty, already. He purses his lips and lowers his hat over his eyes as if he's trying to hide from someone as he walks over to Dorothy.

The drive through Woodcrest is silent as he remains on the lookout for any woman who may be a sex worker.

 _Now, where would a prostitute be in Woodcrest?_ he questions himself.

He'd never had any prior experience with prostitutes, since he was so used to meeting women, traditionally.

The first location that pops into his mind is the local men's club. Sure, sex between strippers and their clients is prohibited. But maybe if he finds the right girl to give him an _extra_ good time for the right price, he'd be able to conquer his lust, and maybe even use his charm (even though it's been failing him, lately) to seduce her into going out with him on a regular basis?

The plan isn't preferable, but in Robert's desperate mind, it's genius.

He heads down to a strip club on the other side of downtown Woodcrest that's farther from his house to lower his chances of running into anyone he may know.

This gentlemen's club is named, "Purple Rose" with flashing purple neon lights outlining its name that sits atop the building. The entrance is hidden away in an alley that's connected to the busy street he's on. He turns down the alley and finds a park next to another car.

He gets out and checks his wallet to reassure himself that the $1,000 he plans to spend tonight is still there. He then puts it back in his pocket and heads for the entrance, guarded by a bouncer dressed in all black. The man nods to Robert as he enters the establishment.

The inside is dimmed by the mood lighting. Sensual music fills the air, bouncing off the walls.

To his left is the bar, being tended by a cute honey-toned girl, dressed in a triangle bikini top and tight booty shorts. Across from the bar is the runway stage, lined with lights and topped with a pole at the end to showcase its dancers.

He's quickly approached by a shot girl, who offers him a drink, as expected. He politely turns the offer down, and the girl goes on her way to interact with the other club-goers.

"Hey there, soldier."

For a moment, he thinks it's the shot girl, again.

Before he can turn around and respond with a: _"Dammit, I told you I don't want no damn drink!",_ he notices that this voice is different.

This particular woman's voice is alluringly low and velvety. It's almost as if she's trying to put him into a hypnotic trance just by speaking to him.

He looks slightly over his shoulder to find a gorgeously slender, limestone woman rhythmically twirling herself around to greet him. He immediately notices her beautiful, bouncy breasts with a round ass to match.

She furthers her hypnosis of him as she runs her delicate fingers up and down his arm.

"You look lonely~" she sings to him.

Her words are almost like a song, the way her tempting voice hums to him.

"And you look" —he gives her a onceover— "beautiful."

She giggles and lightly nibbles her finger, scanning him down with hungry eyes.

"Why, thank you, sir," she replies. "I'm Cristal," she says, the name smoothly rolling off her tongue, "like the champagne. You wanna head somewhere a little more private?"

His heart almost explodes at the offer—the moment he'd been waiting for all night.

"Sure."

He tries to contain his horny grin as he licks his lips and nods.

Cristal takes his hand and leads him past the stage to a small private room. He watches her wonderful ass sway from side to side as he follows her.

She sits him down in the black leather love chair sitting against the wall before closing the curtains behind her and sinking into his lap in a straddle.

She begins to slowly gyrate her hips and runs her hands all over the many curves of her perfect body to rhythm of the urban background music.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" she asks him.  
"Robert," he answers her, unable to look away from her vibrant olive eyes.  
"You're a handsome man, Robert," she says, one end of her lip curved upward into a devilish smirk.

She starts to move her hips in a grinding motion. The way she slowly grazes his pelvis is practically torture. She cups his cheeks in her hand, earning a blush from the old man. At the sight of his timidity, her smirk then turns to a lighthearted grin, almost one of pity.

"Are you shy?" she inquires.  
"Uh-well, not really," he stutters. "But-um-I'm not used to being around a girl as gorgeous as you." She chuckles and slides off of his lap, gracefully twisting her body around so that her derrière is in his face.  
"Isn't that adorable?" she teases him. "The clients here usually aren't as sweet as you, Robert. There's nothing like the manners of an older gentlemen to get a girl goin'."

She flips her blonde tresses over her shoulder and bends over, her fat ass jiggling in his face.

"I've never seen you around here before. You from out of town?" He feels his cheeks growing red, again, at the question. He gulps and releases a shaky breath, avoiding her eyes as she waits for an answer.  
"Well, actually, I'm just from the other side of town. It's no secret that I've been having bad luck with the ladies as of late, and I didn't want to run into anyone I know here." He shrugs.

She pouts her bottom lip with sympathy and slithers back into his lap, leaving a sensual peck on his cheek. Shivers run down his spine, the kiss lighting up his body like crack would an addict.

"What girl would be dumb enough to pass up a cutie like you?" She tilts her head in question. She runs her hand over his thigh, testing his patience, but in a good way.

She leans in to whisper into his ear:

"If you're having bad luck, I can make you the _luckiest_ man in here, tonight."

She leans in to kiss his lips, locking him under her spell.

 _Are strippers allowed to do this?_

The hell if he knew, but he wouldn't let some stupid rules ruin his chance to feel like 'The Man', again.

After a moment, she comes up for air. He's almost breathless from his growing excitement.

"How much you got in the bank, Daddy?" she asks.

She playfully reaches into his pocket for his wallet.

After the kiss, he's comfortable and ready to flaunt his new confidence.

"One thousand, baby," he answers her with a corny macho wink. "You can have all that" —he glances down at his crotch— "and more, if you like."

She amusedly snickers and eagerly reaches for his pants to begin unzipping them.

"I won't tell, if you don't," she whispers with another mischievous chuckle.

 **...**

The next morning, Robert wakes up and gets out of bed with a little pep in his step. He hums all the way down the stairs and to the kitchen, where he finds the boys searching the cabinets for cereal.

"Don't worry about breakfast, I'll cook," Granddad offers. He waltzes over to the fridge to grab some eggs.

"Granddad, you never cook," Huey replies, raising a brow of suspicion.

Riley lightly nudges his brother while sneering and whispers to him:

"That date of his must've gave him some _good ass head,_ last night."

"Watch ya mouth, boy," Granddad scolds him, but his tone remains cheerful.

He grabs some cooking spray to grease the preheating skillet on the stove. Once, the pan is hot enough, he puts the eggs in and seasons them with salt and pepper.

As he sautés the eggs, the boys are captivated by a moving van that's pulled up next door to the Freeman house.

"Granddad, we've got new neighbors!" Huey alerts him.  
"Dayum! That lady's ass is lookin' scrumptious!" Riley remarks, sinking his teeth into his lips as his brother grimaces at him.

Granddad leaves the skillet to sit for a little and joins the boys at the kitchen window, smacking Riley upside the head for his vulgar language.

"Ow!" Riley winces and rubs the back of his head.

Robert watches as a family of three peacefully hauls boxes out of the back of the moving van and into the house. First is a lanky caramel man with a short and neat haircut, followed by a little beige girl with two enormous, orange puffballs in her hair.

The last person out of the van causes the old man's jaw to drop, and he claps his hand over his mouth.

"Oh, My Lord..." he trails off, watching the sexy light skin woman carry a large box out of the back of the moving van.

He feels his gut sinking to the floor.

"What's wrong, Granddad?" Huey asks, both of his grandsons' eyes on him, now.

Granddad clears his throat and bats his lashes, feigning normalcy.

"Um, nothing!" he lies. "I was just noticing that they just have a big house!"  
"Our houses are around the same size," Huey retorts.  
"Well-" he awkwardly pauses, tensing up. "We don't know that for sure, do we?"  
"No," Huey answers.

His eyes slowly leave Granddad's with a gleam of suspicion in them as the boy turns his head back to the window.

 _Oh, God, I know I've done a lot of messed up things in the past!_ Robert prays internally. _I killed Stinkmeaner, I snuck into a movie theater without paying for tickets or food, I even got addicted to reefa that one time! But please, forgive me for sleeping with that man's wife!_

 **XXXXXXXXXX**

 **I know what you thinking:** _ **Did this crazy ho really just make Cristal Jazmine's mama?**_

 **And I'm here to tell you: Yes. Yes, I did**?

 **Also, I truly apologize for putting y'all through that horny ass scene between Granddad and Cristal. While I do feel that the scene is necessary to help connect the story, I think I had a little too much fun while I was writing it**?

 **Forgive mehhhh**

 **Anyways, thank you SO much for checking out the first part of my second story on here! You guys don't know how much I appreciate your undying support!**

 **Remember to leave a vote, tell me your thoughts in the comments, and share this with your friends so y'all can have double the fun!**


	3. Chapter 1: Dinner with the Dubois'

**A/N: "iM uPdAtInG oN tUeSdAy"**  
 **"Lila, why you lied?"**

 **Well, I updated, so shut y'all asses**

 **Btw, thanks SO much for so much support on the prologue. I really didn't expect it on the first chapter! :D**

 **XXXXXXX**

It's only good manners that the Freemans welcome their new neighbors to the neighborhood, right?

Although he's reluctant to, Granddad decides to bake (and burn) a bundt cake as a housewarming gift for the new family next door.

Before he and his grandkids take off to say 'hi' to the neighbors, Granddad takes a moment to prepare himself in the bathroom.

He splashes his face with cold water from the sink and looks at himself in the mirror.

"Alright, calm down, Robert," he assuages himself. "Just don't make eye contact with her, and pretend you don't know her."

"Granddad, you comin'?" Huey hollers from the front door.

"Yeah! I'm just grabbin' the cake!" he answers.

Granddad hurries out of the bathroom and into the kitchen to grab a cake tray with the slightly burnt bundt cake inside of it. He then moves towards the front door where the boys are waiting and leaves with them.

Huey leads the Freeman trio to the neighbors' front door. He gives it three light knocks then rings the doorbell.

Robert waits and hides behind the boys, feeling the cake tray wobble in his shaky hands.

 _Lord, please don't let Cristal answer,_ he pleads.

His request is promptly granted. The door lightly swings open, revealing the lanky caramel man from before. He wears a goofy grin as he greets the Freemans.

"Hi, I'm Tom Dubois!" His voice is deep and rhythmic, each word resembling a beautifully belted song lyric.

"How are you?" he asks, stretching his open hand out for each Freeman to shake.

 _Dammit, he looks so nice!_

Granddad is overwhelmed with a sudden wave of guilt.

 _I can't tell him what happened!_

Robert releases the breath he was unaware that he was holding in.

"Hi, Tom!" he replies. "I'm Robert Freeman, and these are my two grandsons: Huey and Riley."

The boys both scan the man dressed in a blue polo and white pants.

"We just came to welcome you all to the neighborhood," Granddad continues.

He holds the cake out for Tom, and the kind man takes it.

"Why, thank you, Robert!" Tom nods and gratuitously smiles in return.

"We're also having dinner around 6 and were wondering if you'd like to come over," Granddad offers.

Tom gives a lighthearted chuckle.

"My wife and I would love to!" he replies.

Robert peeks over Tom's shoulder to see a blonde woman scrolling through her phone while walking past the doorway. His heart shoots up to his throat as soon as she looks in their direction and blows him a kiss from her luscious red lips.

Tom notices his neighbor's eyes widening with panic, causing the prim and proper man to glance behind himself, only to see open space.

"Is something wrong?" Tom asks.

"Yo' wife got ass," Riley comments.

If they weren't in a rich, white neighborhood, where ass-whoopings are seen as child abuse, Robert would've worn Riley's out right then and there.

Instead, he just claps his hand over his crude grandson's mouth to keep him quiet.

"I'm so sorry," Robert apologizes. "My grandson's a bit of a dumbass."

Tom seems a bit taken aback, but he continues nonetheless:

"Oh-well, as I was saying, we have a daughter, and I'm sure she and the boys would make great friends."  
"That sounds lovely," Robert replies with a nod.

Tom begins to smile and wave to the Freemans.

"Alright, see ya at 6!" he exclaims as they leave.  
"See ya then!" Robert shouts back.

...

It's difficult to tell that the Dubois family is new to Woodcrest; they arrive ten minutes early to the Freeman house, just like any of the other suburban inhabitants would to an event.

 _Ding-Dong!_

 **"Huey, go get that!"** Granddad shouts from the kitchen.

Huey hops off the living room couch and goes to answer the door, the Dubois' standing there, as expected.

"Hi, Huey!"

Tom gives the young man a fist bump as he passes by him.

Following her husband, the blonde light skin lady from before coos at Huey, taking a hit at his manhood:

"Hey, little man!" she greets him, adoringly. "You are too cute!"

She leans over to leave an affectionate smooch on his cheek.

"I'm Mariah," she tells him.  
"And _I'm_ thirteen," Huey quickly retorts, his stone-cold face demanding respect.  
"Oh, I'm sorry," she chuckles.

She extends her hand to shake his.

"I'll treat you like the grown man you are, then," she pledges with an honest smile.

He shakes her hand, and she walks past him into the house, leaving her daughter.

The redhead appears extremely shy, as she's not even able to meet his eyes. She delicately wraps her arms around herself, like a small child would wear a security blanket.

"Uh..." he trails off, looking her up and down.

He's unsure how to greet the timid girl. It seems as if one word would send her sprinting off in the opposite direction.

"Hi?" it comes out as more of a question than a greeting.

She murmurs something inaudible in response, barely looking up from the ground when she does.

An awkward silence forms between them. His eyes dance around as he wonders what he should do next.

"...Come in-"

The girl practically knocks him over on her clumsy rush inside the house. When he regains his balance, he scratches his afro and raises a brow.

 _What's up with her?_ he wonders.

He closes and locks the door, walking past the kitchen on his way back to the living room.

He watches Mariah help Granddad prepare the food, while Tom sets the table and blabs on about some old pianist from the 20's.

As Mariah stands next to his grandfather at the counter, Huey notices Granddad is very tense, considering his stiff shoulders and reddened cheeks.

She, on the other hand, seems very comfortable, spotting an impish grin as she slowly devours him with her longing gaze.

He discreetly observes as Mariah slowly lifts her hand and caresses Granddad's ass, earning a sharp help from the old man. She quickly retracts her hand just in time to avoid getting caught by Tom.

"Something wrong, Robert?" he asks.  
"He just sliced his finger while cutting the tomatoes," Cristal answers for Granddad, her smirk, now, an innocent smile.

"No biggie," she adds.

She then looks up at Granddad.

"Right, Robert?"

Robert stutters as he forces out a calm (or close to calm, at least) response:

"Um, y-yeah," he agrees.

Tom then continues his boring lecture about the pianist, and Granddad and Cristal continue cooking, as if nothing just happened.

Huey, eyes wide with shock and disgust, almost trips over himself, hurrying out of their sight. He decides to go to the garage to clear his head and—most importantly—work on the cure.

Jazmine watches the mysterious boy with the afro pass through the living room as she and Riley watch TV.

"Ew! Why you starin' at him like that?"

Riley grimaces at the ginger girl.

Her shy demeanor keeps her from responding. She lowers her eyes to her phone and aimlessly scrolls through it.

"So, you still ain't speakin', huh?" he prods at her.

He inches closer to her, allowing her to feel his dark eyes burn into the side of her face.

"Are you a baby or somethin'?" he teases her. "Do you even know how to talk?"

This seems to push Jazmine to her limit. She stands up and wanders off away from the youngest Freeman.

"Ay! Where you goin'?" he shouts after her. "You forgot yo' pacifier!"

Jazmine finds herself lost and holding back tears in the first floor hallway of the house. She hurries further down the hall, until she finds a door at the end of it. Thinking it's a bathroom, she opens it and enters without any second thought.

She holds her head in her hands and sniffles.

 _Don't do it, Jazmine,_ she coaches herself. _No more crying. This is a new start._

She takes a moment to fight back her tears and wipe them away, until her pity party is interrupted by a familiar voice:

"Yo," someone calls to her.

She lifts her head, revealing her flushed face and puffy eyes. Her breathing comes to an abrupt halt with the realization that she isn't inside a bathroom.

It's a garage, instead.

A little ways from her is the same boy with the afro from before, working at some kind of workstation.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asks once he notices he has her attention.


End file.
